


A Writer Loves an Artist (Marc Appreciation Week)

by Scribbling Mama (melgibson87)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Blush - Freeform, Collab, Favorite Ship, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friendship, Future, Hero/Villain, Light Angst, M/M, Marc Appreciation Week, Marc is too cute, Rainbow, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sweet, Sweet Fluff, Writer, Writing, platonic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melgibson87/pseuds/Scribbling%20Mama
Summary: Marc's shyness has been his biggest obstacle. Whether it's about sharing his writing with others to initiating contact with an artist he admires, his shyness has always held him back. A little push by his best friend and roommate, he'll soon find himself doing both. When he takes the leap, he'll find himself more than a little surprised yet possibly pleased with the way future events go.





	1. A Day of Writing

 

Pen scratching across the page’s surface soothed his nerves, nerves jangled hard from an earlier altercation with a classmate. He hadn’t meant to start an argument, preferring to keep his opinions to himself, but he hadn’t been able to allow his classmate to continue with a wrong assumption.

The last thing he’d wanted was the argument it caused, only coming to an end when their professor had shouted for order. Having the professor side with him hadn’t helped, either. His classmate had glared proverbial daggers at him, sending him into a panicked frenzy that he feared even writing wouldn’t help.

Thankfully, he’d been wrong.

Tucked in the deepest shelves of the university’s library, Marc’s pen flew across the pages, transforming a world he’d first seen by one of his favorite online artists. Characters of his own creation blended well with those the artist had painted until Marc had lost track of which belonged to him or said artist.

A soft chirp from his phone interrupted his train of thought, his hand reaching toward the small device beside him.

His eyes widened at the lateness of the hour, realizing he had minutes before his final class of the day. He’d have to rush to make it across campus to be on time.

The notification forgotten, Marc looped his bag across his shoulders and raced through the library. He ignored the raised brows he received, tossing a silent apology toward the librarian as he dashed through the sliding glass doors. A blush suffused his cheeks at causing a disturbance, hoping he’d be allowed inside again after this latest snafu.

“Hey, Marc, why are you running? You don’t run.” Marinette’s voice called out to him, her warm smile not wilting as his gaze searched the quad for the best route to class. “Hey, calm down. You forgot, didn’t you? There’s no class today, silly. Why do you think I’m here instead of racing myself?”

His shoulders slumped with relief. Doing his best to smile, he followed her toward a nearby table where she shared some baked goods she brought from a nearby bakery. “They aren’t as good as my papa’s, but they’ll help with your nerves.”

“Thanks, Marinette.” He bit into one of the croissants, smiling as the flaky pastry worked its bit of magic to calm him. “You’re a good friend.”

“I know.” With a push, she handed the rest of the bag. “I’m going to be working late, but I’ll see you back at the dorms later, okay?”

“Yeah, see you.” He waved, picking up his notebook and opening it to its most recent entry. He studied what he’d written of the adventure he’d created, ready to begin where he left off.

His phone chirped again, reminding him of the missed notification.

Sighing, he pulled the device from his pocket, smiling once more at what he found waiting for him.

The artist he followed had posted a new piece.

Wanting to see the piece, he hurried toward the dorms where he stayed, not bothering to put anything away in his haste. He pulled his laptop from his desk and opened the lid, happy he hadn’t completely shut down before.

With a few keystrokes, the screen came alive and he soon navigated to the site where the new piece had been posted.

Seeing the new landscape and the small detailing that he hadn’t thought possible with a real paintbrush, he gasped, his hand itching to write more of the story he’d woven for this world.

Maybe one day he’d have the nerve to reach out and show his words to the artist, but he couldn’t yet. They weren’t perfect. He still hadn’t quite gotten them the way they needed to be.

The artist worked so hard on his art. He deserved to have Marc’s words be perfect to honor that hard work.

He just needed a little more time to get them just right.

Then, he’d work up the nerve to show them.


	2. A Friend's Helping Hand

Coming awake, a soft groan escaped his lips. He’d fallen asleep at his desk again, his hand curled under his cheek for some cushion and his notebook open beside him, pen still in hand.

A blanket around his shoulders confirmed Marinette had found him and covered him. He hadn’t felt her attempts to wake him, but then, he rarely did after falling under the exhaustive spell of sleep from writing for hours. A grateful smile for having such a wonderful roommate spread across his lips, tugging the corners around him to protect him from the morning chill.

Snoring from the bed across his warned him she wouldn’t be easy to wake. Something he didn’t look forward to handling as he noted the late hour, but he had a promise to keep. He wouldn’t break it even if he didn’t have the sweetest roommate when she’d been roused from sleep.

Deciding to put it off another moment or two, he tapped on his laptop, noting she hadn’t shut it down. Hitting a few buttons brought the aging machine back to life, the screen lighting up.

He caught another flashing notification from his favorite artist. His brows knitted at the sight. It was too soon since the last post for a new one. Curious, he typed in his password and tapped on the notification link.

His heart dropped to his shoes.

_To my dearest followers, it’s with the saddest heart that I’m announcing my withdrawal from this site. The number of art thieves has broken my drive to post anything new here. In the last ten hours, my newest piece has been reposted and copied to at least another twenty sites across the Internet. This has become the final straw. For those who’d like to find my work, new and old, you can find me at the link below._

The link, to Marc’s greatest disappointment, led to a subscription site. The prices and tiers weren’t too outrageous considering the skill this artist possessed. Unfortunately, Marc’s funds limited him to support this artist and gain another chance to peruse the masterpieces the man created with such skill and patience.

Slamming the laptop’s cover down, he strode over to Marinette’s bed and nudged her awake, less gentle than he typically was with her.

When she stirred, she groused at him for being such a meanie, not earning his usual smile. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not a grumpy person in the morning.”

“It’s nothing.” He turned before she could see the sadness in his eyes, not ready or willing to tell her the problem. “Come on. We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

“Marc? Talk to me, please. We have a little time.” She rustled the sheets as she stood from the bed, a noise that didn’t bode well for him. Her arms wrapped around his waist a moment later, pulling him back into her warmth. “We’re friends. You can tell me anything. No judgment.”

He tried to hold. He truly did.

But, he caved, spilling all the details as she readied for the day.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Marc. That really sucks.” Her hands expertly fixed her hair in the signature pigtails she’d worn since their lycée days.

“It’s not like I don’t get it. It’s one of my fears being a writer. I’m so worried someone will take something I write, even if it’s really bad, and claim it as their own. I’ve seen it done to artists and writers alike. It’s so unfair and wrong for someone to do that when they’ve clearly haven’t put the work or time into something.” Marc’s hand ran through his hair, adjusting his sweater’s hood closer around his face. The red sweater had been his favorite, unable to part with it even as he started at university.

“Don’t forget us designers. I told you about the hat design an old classmate tried to steal from me. The only reason she was caught had been my signature in the stitching.” She offered him a smile as she grabbed up her bag and walked toward him at the door. “Don’t let it get you down. I know how much you admired his work. I’m sure we’ll find a way, so you can see new pieces again.”

“Thanks, Marinette. You’re the best.” Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her close for a moment before pulling back and opening the door for them to head to class.

His words would come back to haunt him a few hours later, staring at his laptop and the subscription site. “Marinette, what did you do?”

His new account with a nice profile picture she’d taken a while back had been made, his account had actual funds in it, and even had a year-long subscription to his favorite artist at a middle tier. A welcome message from said artist sat in his inbox on the site, waiting for him to click and read it.

“Marinette, you shouldn’t have done this.” His words stuttered as he struggled to wrap his mind around what she’d done.

“Why not? Marc, you like this guy’s work. I couldn’t have you moping around when you deserve to see his work as much as you want. Besides, I’m really liking the story you’re writing based on his art. The pieces you’ve let me read anyway.” She gave him a small pout though her eyes had grown determined. “This is your chance to learn more about him. Maybe even get to know him. Show him your stories. I’m sure he’d love them.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t. They’re not ready.” Marc could feel the panic coursing through his veins, hoping he could stop it before an attack set in. He couldn’t handle an attack at that moment.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean right now. Wait until you’re ready. Marc, breathe. You have to breathe.” Her hand ran soothing circles over his back as she continued to chant softly in his ear. “It’ll be alright, you’ll see. Just breathe. In and out. There you go.”

Recovering bit by bit, he rasped, “Forget ever being a heroine in my story. You’re a villain. Big, big villain.”

She smiled at him. “I think I can live with that. Forgive me for now.”

“For now,” he grumbled, turning back to the laptop and clicking on the waiting message. He might as well get this over with and save himself any more misery.

He could kill Marinette later. Figuratively.


	3. The Video Call

 

Two weeks after that initial welcome email, Marc found himself in front of his laptop, his hands fidgeting and palms sweating. Nervous energy wafted around him as the small clock in the corner ticked down, one slow minute after the next.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, his hand raising to the touchpad, sliding the mouse toward the large ‘X’ at the top.

One click and he could breathe again. One click and he’d miss his chance to speak directly to the artist for the first time.

Marinette’s gifted subscription for him had brought this little surprise to him mere days before. He’d woken to a private message on the site, reminding him to set up his private chat with the artist.

What had he been thinking? Why did he set this up? He couldn’t think of a single question. They alluded him as he sat there, the clock blinking the time.

Two minutes.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

His hand hovered the mouse of the ‘X’ again, prepared to escape while he had the chance. Surely, the artist had better things to do than talk to him. It’d be so awkward, him not saying anything and the artist looking at him with such pity, perhaps annoyance. No, better to end this before he embarrassed himself.

“You’re really freaking out, aren’t you?” Marinette whispered behind him.

He turned, his eyes wide and dry. He had to blink several times and force breath into his lungs after her sudden appearance, forgetting she’d only gone to the laundromat, not to the fashion department. He wouldn’t see her for hours if she had.

“Just breathe, Marc. It’ll be alright, I promise.” Her hand ran across his shoulders, meant to soothe yet did the opposite. Her hand stilled in an instant, her face coming to his level. With her cheek pressed against his, she asked, “Would you like me to stay? I can be your moral support if you’d like.”

“Yes! Yes, please, stay.” He shoved his bag aside and pulled her chair close to his desk. “Thanks, Marinette. You’re the best.”

Her giggling didn’t phase him as the chime of an incoming call pinged from his computer.

“Oh, it’s showtime. You can do this.” She sank beside him, her hand going for his and squeezing tight in reassurance. “Go on. Accept the call.”

His hand shook but he hit the button, the screen changing from black to a vivid red. So much red filled his screen, he dared a glance at his roommate and caught the awe on her expression as well. It took him a moment longer to realize the artist’s back was to them, his head down and his hair the only part they could make out from the camera’s angle.

A soft pinch on his arm pulled a gasp from his lips, the pain unexpected.

“Say something,” she mouthed.

He raised his brows at her, clearly lost at this point.

Another pinch at his wrist forced the words past his lips.

“Um, hello?”

More red shifted into focus. Then, the artist’s blue, oh-so-blue eyes flashed across the screen.

They widened as he noted how close he’d been, his hand moving to brush at his errant locks across one eye.

“Sorry about that.” A sheepish smile followed his words, pale cheeks blushing a pretty pink. “I thought you might’ve stood me up.”

Marc didn’t know what to say to that. His mind couldn’t compute what he’d heard, almost shaking his head in denial of the words.

“He wouldn’t dream of doing that. Your art is amazing, and all he talks about, isn’t it, Marc?” Marinette’s eyes darted between him and the screen, her message clear and pushy. Mouthing once more, she whispered, “You got this. Talk to him.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Beads of sweat formed at his temple, a single droplet gained enough traction to slide downward. He swiped at it, hoping to appear nonchalant but fearing he failed miserably.

The artist smiled, clearly at ease with the soft praise. “That’s nice to hear. So, do you have any questions you’d like to ask me? My process?”

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

He didn’t know he’d said it loud enough to be heard until the redhead asked, “What was that?”

“Oh, no.” His hand went to shield the blooming warmth of his cheeks.

“Marc’s been wondering how you’re able to put so much beauty in even the smallest details. It almost seems impossible with a simple paintbrush. Would you be willing to demonstrate for him how you do it?” Marinette chimed in, forcing his hand away. Her eyes spoke volumes as she squeezed the hand she still held again. Her lips moved in silence.

Breathe.

He forced his body to inhale and exhale a slow, deep breath, gaining some much-needed grounding. His nerves settling, he managed a calm voice, saying, “That would be amazing if you don’t mind. I’d love to see how you do it.”

“That’s really nice of you to say. I can’t today, unfortunately, but I’d be happy to show you something this weekend if you’d like. I can call you again and set the camera, so you can watch me work.” The blush had returned to his cheeks though his eyes remained steady as they regarded Marc.

That surprised him most.

The artist almost looked genuinely hopeful he’d say yes.

Surely, he was wrong. No one as good looking as this guy could be interested in him.

“What do you say, Marc? A private session with your favorite artist? How cool would that be?” Marinette’s words added to the magic of the moment, soft yet magical in the way she’d phrased them.

“I would love that.” The calm words surprised him, his body a bundle of growing anticipation. “To see the Mighty Illustrator at work would be amazing.”

The redhead chuckled, his eyes warm and his cheeks a bit rosier, as he mumbled, “What a silly handle. Call me Nath or Nathaniel.”

Nath. His name was Nath. What a nice name!

“So, Marc, what else would you like to know? You’ve got me for at least the next thirty minutes.” Nathaniel settled back in his chair, his arms dropping to his lap and relaxing.

He didn’t hesitate in his next answer. “Anything. Everything.”

Marinette’s giggle didn’t register. Neither did her retreat to her bed.

All Marc could hear and see was Nath at that moment.

“Well, I’ll do my best, but we might need more than one call for me to answer everything.”

Marc felt sure he’d gone to heaven at the sound of Nathaniel’s sweet laugh or even sweeter voice begin his story about falling into art and finding his style.

His pen flew across the page as he jotted down everything he could recall from that call later, ready to use what he’d learned for his stories. He had a new hero for his story, and his name was Nathaniel, a redheaded artist with a magical paintbrush.


	4. Painted Message

 

Heart doodles filled the page of his notebook. Lots of hearts, big and small. Some had color while others remained black and white. Whatever mood had struck him in the moment.

“You have it bad,” Marinette had mused one evening, spying his notebook on her way to the fashion department’s studio. She’d smiled, her happiness for him shining in her eyes. “I’m glad, Marc. You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

She’d dropped a kiss on his cheek before leaving a minute later.

Thoughts of Nathaniel filled most of his days, keeping him far too occupied. He couldn’t turn it off, either. He’d learned the hard way when he’d tried focusing in class but ended up writing some poetry. Poetry. He didn’t write poetry normally, but his hand couldn’t stop from forming little haikus and sonnets.

Maybe he did have it bad as Marinette said.

Determined to get his feelings on paper without hearts doodled, he turned to a clean sheet in his notebook, frowning. When had he gone through this entire notebook? He’d bought it barely a month ago. It couldn’t be this full yet. Could it?

Shaking himself, he picked up his pen, prepared to spend the next several minutes writing. At least, he had been when his computer chimed with a new email.

His gaze lifted, a smile curving his lips as he read the sender’s name and the subject line. Nathaniel had finished a new piece and wanted his opinion on it.

The thought of writing could wait, he decided, his hand drifting over his touchpad. With a few clicks, his inbox opened, and the jpeg file downloaded into his photo software. Another click had the file filling his screen.

“Wow.” The word slipped past his lips, his eyes widening as they took in the scene Nathaniel had sent him.

The longer he stared, the harder it became to breathe. The implications within the painting almost too good to be true. Yet, the symbolism and the message hidden within called out to him, yearning for him to believe what he saw.

The large tower in the middle held a beautiful dark-haired guy, his hand holding what looked like an old-fashioned quill and a small notebook. A knight stood near the bottom, his gloved hand on his chin. He looked to be debating the best way into the tower. A small bit of red hair peeked from under the helmet worn by the knight.

Marc’s heart rate increased at the sweetness he caught in the knight’s yearning face. A soft blush as he considered how much he’d love to be ‘rescued’ by someone like Nathaniel. The artist had brought a light into his life since their video call a few weeks back.

It hadn’t been the only one, either.

They’d shared emails and a few more video calls over the past few weeks. Marc had been equal parts thrilled and terrified with each one, fearing it’d be the last yet rejoicing when Nath promised to call him again time.

He pressed a button to reply to the email, fully prepared to gush over how much he loved it.

Another glance at the painting stopped him.

A small favor worn around the knight’s wrist caught his eye. A tiny detail so easily lost yet begged to be noticed. The torn fabric had been painted into a rainbow. The colors bright against the pale silver of the knight’s armor.

It matched the soft rainbow that appeared to be glistening behind the tower, almost as if the two had found one another as the knight had the guy in the tower.

“Could it be?” Marc whispered to the room.

He scanned the painting, searching for any other clues to why Nathaniel would reveal this to him. Had he been so obvious, and Nath was just being nice? Could Nath be interested in him? No, he wasn’t that lucky. He couldn’t be that lucky.

The door to his room opened as he continued to stare at the painting, barely registering his roommate’s arrival. Her sighs of frustration unheard and unnoticed until she plopped into her chair beside him.

“So, you going to meet him for coffee?” Marinette asked, her eyes on the painting and a small smile blooming on her lips.

“Coffee? What makes you say that?” He turned to face her, wondering how she’d gotten the idea when Nathaniel hadn’t asked him out or vice versa. He doubted he’d ever have the courage to ask Nathaniel out. No way the artist would be interested in hanging out with him, even if their video calls lasted longer with each new one.

She giggled. “Because he’s asking you out, silly. Don’t you see the question in the painting?”

“Um, no.” He ripped his gaze from her smirk to the painting, searching for whatever sign she’d seen within it. “Where do you see him asking me out?”

Her finger came into his vision, pointing at some discolored stones on the tower.

He squinted and gaped as the words started forming before him: you, me, and coffee with a question mark behind it.

“So, are you going to go or what?”

He didn’t answer right away, not sure he could even form the words if he’d wanted. Nath was asking him out. The beautiful redheaded artist liked him. Him. The bumbling writer who could barely keep himself from blushing each time they spoke. He’d just mastered answering the call without Marinette beside or even in the same room. He had to be dreaming.

But, what if he wasn’t? What if Nath did like him?

He smiled as he whispered, “Yes, I am.”

“Good for you, Marc. I’m so proud of you.” She hugged him tight. She didn’t let go until he reminded her he still had to answer Nath’s question.

He didn’t waste a moment, either, pushing the reply button and sending his answer before he could overthink it.

He’d made his move. Now, it was Nath’s.

Marc could only hope that he survived the wait between then and Nathaniel’s next email.


	5. Coffee Date

 

Warmth. Too much warmth.

His cheeks flamed despite the cool air within the café. He didn’t know it was possible for his cheeks to burn as they were.

Nathaniel hadn’t even shown up, yet his cheeks burned as if the artist had flirted with him mercilessly.

In a way the redhead had by sending that beautiful painting, something Marc had saved onto his computer’s hard drive. Not that he needed to. It would forever be etched in his memory, but he refused to get rid of it, adoring the piece simply because it’d been made for him.

“Marc?” a masculine voice asked behind him.

He jumped, his chair scraping the floor.

Several customers paused, their eyes going toward him with raised brows. Some wore knowing smiles as they took in his warm cheeks.

They warmed impossibly more as the guy beside him righted his chair, his red hair falling over his shoulders.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Blue eyes glanced at him, his red locks draping over his forehead in a way that made him more endearing. “You’re okay, right? No coffee spilled or anything?”

“No, no coffee. Yet ordered not.” Marc heard the words, wincing at their incorrect order and wishing he could hide in the deepest, darkest hole. What was it about Nathaniel to make him completely lose balance? Doing his best to recover, he pushed out a forced breath and tried again. “I’m good. I haven’t ordered yet. I wanted to wait for you if that’s okay.”

Not much better, he moaned inwardly, but at least he’d managed a proper sentence. Three, to be exact.

He could do this. He just needed to remember that Nathaniel was the same as him. They both loved creating works of art though they used different mediums to do it. He could talk to Nathaniel without Marinette being present. He’d done it the last few times via video call. It shouldn’t be too hard for a real face-to-face, should it?

Nathaniel smiled. “That’s fine. This way, I’ll get to treat you for the honor of meeting me.”

Marc gaped. Nathaniel wanted to buy him coffee? Really?

When Nath’s cheeks warmed, Marc realized he’d been staring and dropped his gaze to the table, his hand fidgeting with the small chip in the corner. “That’s really nice of you. I’m more than honored to meet you.”

“Wow, I just realized what I said. That’s not what I meant. I swear I’m not a complete jerk.” Nath’s hands came up to cover his face.

Confused, Marc glanced up and caught a rosy color creeping up Nath’s exposed neck and higher. The tips of his ears weren’t even saved from the red tinting coloring them.

Before Marc could ask, Nath’s hands dropped to his side, offering Marc a soft smile. “I meant to say I’m glad you’re joining me today. I’ve been enjoying our chats online, and it’s an honor you came.”

“Oh,” Marc whispered, his mouth curving into the beginnings of a smile.

“So, about that coffee? What would you like?” Nath turned toward the counter, his head tilted just enough for his hair to brush against his shoulder and draw Marc’s attention.

It took some effort, but he managed to give his order to the redhead, his gaze following Nathaniel’s every movement from the counter back to the table.

A chuckle slipped past the artist’s lips, drawing Marc’s attention to them.

He inhaled deep, holding his breath as his thoughts went haywire. Thoughts of kissing invaded him, wondering if Nath could kiss him like the heroes in the novels Marinette read from time to time. He wanted to find out. Boy, did he want to find out.

Burning would best explain the blaze going through his cheeks at those errant thoughts.

He wasn’t going to survive this coffee date, not the way he was going. He just knew something was going to happen and ruin it. That was his luck.

“I see you brought your backup, too.” Nath’s hand waved at a table behind them.

Marc knew without looking back. Nath had spotted Marinette and her boyfriend.

“Yeah, she insisted on coming,” he whispered, shame burning through him and dousing the flames in his cheeks. “She’s pretty protective of the ones she cares about, including me. I hope you don’t mind.”

Another soft chuckle slipped past Nath’s lips.

They really did look incredibly soft in Marc’s mind.

“It’s okay. I have a friend like that, too. She tagged along, too.” His hand hooked over his shoulder, pointing to a lone woman with pink hair in the opposite corner.

The glare she shot at Nath’s back had Marc a bit worried, but Nath’s nonchalance soothed any ruffled nerves Marc might’ve had at her presence.

“She’s harmless unless you break my heart. I told her you had no intention in doing that.” Nath’s voice had dropped to a whisper, almost like he was imparting a secret of great importance. His eyes shone with a gentle teasing that pulled Marc closer. “Now, I do have to know if you’re willing to keep my promise to her. You’re not going to break my heart, are you?”

“Me? Break your heart? I doubt that’s possible.” Marc couldn’t imagine he’d ever hold such power over someone. He wouldn’t want it even if it were possible. That was too great a responsibility to have such power.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Nath didn’t look at him, but the words sounded sincere, almost vulnerable. It disappeared too soon for Marc to be sure as Nath asked, “So, you’re a writer? Any chance I could see some of your stories? If you write as well as I think you do, they have to be good.”

“Oh.” Marc couldn’t form another word as his cheeks bloomed, the earlier warmth returning with a vengeance. It took him a moment to regroup before he said, “I left my notebook back at the dorm. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Nath’s smile stopped his words from getting too carried away.

“It’s okay. Maybe we can stop by and get it in a bit. We have all afternoon, right?” Nath’s blue eyes glanced between his loose locks.

“R-right.”


	6. Nathaniel's Enthusiasm Is Contagious

 

“Marc, these are amazing.” Nath’s surprised words warmed him.

He hadn’t been planning to show the artist his work anytime soon, but their afternoon had gone from an awkward beginning to a peaceful time spent with his crush. He freely admitted it by then. He had a raging crush on the artist sitting at his desk, reading page after page within Marc’s notebook.

“You should publish your stories. People need to read them.” Nath’s eyes met his, his sincerity shining in those blue depths that were fast becoming Marc’s favorite.

As the words filtered in his mind, Marc shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “They’re not ready. I still have a lot of revising and editing before they’re perfect.”

The book shut with a soft thud in Nathaniel’s hands a moment before those same hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his face upward. A smile graced the artist’s lips as he whispered, “They’re pretty perfect to me.”

Marc forgot how to breathe.

Nathaniel’s nearness did that to him. He discovered that when the redhead had accidentally brushed against him as they’d walked back to the dorm earlier. It’d been brief, but that touch had been enough to send his heart racing.

It raced again as Nath continued to smile at him, those blue eyes watching him. They almost seemed to be waiting for him to do something though Marc couldn’t figure out what for the life of him.

The moment passed, and the artist took a step back.

The spell broken, air filled Marc’s lungs, threatening to choke him in its intensity.

“Have you thought about possibly publishing them anonymously? You could easily create a website where others could read your work without knowing it’s yours.” The words sounded casual yet something in them made Marc pause.

He wanted the recognition, but he wanted to ensure readers liked what he wrote, too. His self-doubts and his desires had warred far longer than they should’ve been allowed, he realized. He wanted others to read his stories and know they came from him, but his fears they’d never measure up had kept them locked away.

Did he want to continue down this road forever? Could he embrace the idea of publishing his work, have his name on it, and handle the comments he’d receive from readers? Praise is nice, but what about the negative comments sure to happen? Would he be able to handle them?

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” Nathaniel moved closer, his hand reaching toward Marc yet not touching him. “If you’re not ready, you’re not. It’s fine. I just think you’re amazing and others should know it, too.”

That surprised Marc. Words slipped past his lips before he could think to stop them. “You do?”

Nath’s smile returned, a blush tinting his cheeks. “Yeah, I do.”

Marc’s lips curved at the corners, a smile threatening to spill across them. He hadn’t thought Nathaniel would like him, let alone believe he was amazing. The sensation pouring through him at the thought warmed him, sending his heart rate another notch higher.

“Maybe I can try. I wouldn’t mind sharing one of the stories I created from your art. If that’s okay with you.” He didn’t quite meet Nathaniel’s gaze as he spoke. He didn’t know if he feared rejection or just nerves because those beautiful blue eyes settled on him, reading him in ways he hadn’t thought could happen.

“Where’s your computer?” Nath glanced around the small dorm, smiling when Marc pointed toward the top drawer. “You can share it on my site if you’d like. That way, my fans can see it. We’ll work on getting them focused on you and your work, too. Maybe even collab together on a few pieces to generate more buzz. What do you think?”

Blue eyes met startled green ones.

At least, that’s how it felt to Marc. He couldn’t quite process what he was hearing at first.

“You want to work with me? Collab with me? Really?”

A faint blush covered the redhead’s cheeks and ears. “Well, yeah. I think we might even make a great team.”

Marc sank onto his bed, unsure he could handle what he was hearing. He never imagined his favorite artist would like to work with him. Dreamed of it? Sure. To actually find it happening? Never in his wildest imaginings.

“Hey, Marc, I’m not trying to push you. I hope you know that, but I do believe your writing is great. The words you use to describe my art and what’s happening in each scene is beyond anything I could do. You bring a whole new dimension I can’t.” His hand, which had moved to cup Marc’s shoulder, dropped into his lap, fidgeting with a loose string at his knee. “If you want to forget this whole thing, we can. The last thing I want is to lose you because I got carried away.”

“Lose me?” The words came out whisper-soft. Marc could hardly dare believe they meant what he hoped they did.

Another blush, darker this time, coated the artist’s cheeks.

“I guess it’s a bit soon to mention I like you. A lot.” The redhead stood and paced the small room, small mumbling falling from his lips though Marc couldn’t make out any of it.

He had his thoughts to keep him occupied. He’d learned quite a bit that day.

Nathaniel liked his writing and wanted to help him build a following. Nathaniel thought he was good enough to have a following. To top it off, Nathaniel has admitted to liking him, possibly liking him as much as he liked Nathaniel.

A smile blossomed, spreading through his heart and across his lips.

Standing, he stopped Nathaniel’s progress, pulling the artist close in an uncharacteristic, emboldened move. “I would like to collab with you, Nath, because I like you, too. A lot. I have for quite some time.”

“You do?”

He nodded, his smile growing wider as his gaze dropped to Nath’s lips. He still wondered at their softness, especially with how close they were to his. Could he take that leap? Could he risk the friendship they’d established by pushing for more so soon?

He didn’t have long to contemplate the problem.

Nathaniel appeared more than eager to show him he could indeed take that leap, pressing his lips against Marc’s in a kiss that could rival the sweetest of kisses in any romance novel. He didn’t stop until they both pulled apart, breathless and exhilarated to see what would happen next.


	7. Moving In Together

 

“Marc, this place is amazing,” Marinette exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so proud of you and your success. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Marinette. You do, too.” He returned her hug, holding her close for a moment before pulling away with a wide grin. He pulled out a small jeweler’s box and held it up for her inspection. “Do you think Nath will like it?”

She gaped at the silver and gold band, her eyes shining with emotion. “Oh, he’s going to love it. When are you going to ask him?”

“Tonight, I think.”

Noises behind them startled him, shoving the box back into his pocket before Nathaniel appeared with Adrien at his side. Neither noticed Marc or Marinette as they dragged in some boxes from downstairs.

“Come on, man, you have to do it. It’s tradition whenever you move into a new place.” Adrien’s words brought laughter pouring out of Nathaniel, his head shaking at whatever the blond had been intimating.

Marc didn’t have long to figure out why, a blush rising to his cheeks at the thought.

“Not everyone is a hapless romantic like you are. I’m definitely not as strong as you. Even if I wanted to, I can’t lift Marc and carry him over the threshold.” Nathaniel’s head shook as he set down the small stack of boxes he’d brought with him.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, but you have to do it. Come on, he’ll love it.” Adrien’s insistence had Marinette moving toward the other room.

Marc followed, unsure if he could hide any longer. His cheeks had yet to lose their warmth at the idea of being lifted and carried. He hadn’t thought about such a thing before, preferring to walk beside Nath than be carried. Though, in his sweetest dreams, he couldn’t say the thought never occurred.

“Leave him be, Kitty. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want.” She planted a kiss on the blond’s cheek, mollifying her fiancé with the small gesture. “Besides, we’re running late. I promised Maman we’d stop by and discuss our wedding cake. Papa has new samples for us to try out.”

The quickness her words worked surprised Marc as Adrien turned and hoisted her into his arms, almost as if she weighed nothing. Her giggle at the blond’s antics filled the flat even after they disappeared through the door.

“Well, I guess we’re on our own with the rest downstairs.” Nathaniel’s smile spoke greater volumes as his eyes met Marc’s. Those blue, blue eyes that never failed to stir Marc every time they watched him.

“I guess we are.” He moved to stand beside the redhead, content to spend the time they had together alone moving their boxes and rearranging the flat to fit their needs. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Me, too.” A kiss on his cheek followed Nath’s whispered words, his hands full of smaller items and a box.

They walked downstairs to gather up another batch of their belongings, finding themselves with the final boxes in their hands moments later. Marc smiled as they closed the trunk on his small hatchback for the last time that day.

On the way back to their flat, Nath surprised him by asking, “How much did you hear earlier with Adrien?”

“Not too much. Why?” Marc’s brows knit together as he pondered the reason for Nath’s question.

The artist didn’t say anything more as they approached their apartment with their final boxes.

Marc caught the smile Nath wore, wondering at it. He didn’t have to wonder long as Nath stopped him outside their door.

“Stay right here.”

Nath hurried inside, putting down his pile of boxes. He came back and took the ones in Marc’s hands, taking them inside and placing them beside the ones he just set down.

On his return trip, that smile he wore had grown into a sly smirk, something Marc had grown to adore even as it ratcheted up his nerves. Nath had something planned. Marc knew it as well as he knew everything about the man coming toward him, loving him more with each passing day.

“What’s going on?” Marc ventured, his hands coming to fidget at his hoodie’s hem. The red pullover jacket had made it through lycée and university. He couldn’t imagine not having the beloved thing with him on this day.

“Well, Adrien was right. I can’t allow the day to end without doing one more thing.” The natural swing of Nathaniel’s gait had Marc entranced, almost enough for the words Nath said to pass by without notice.

Almost.

“What do you mean?” Marc looked into those blue eyes, finding an emotion he couldn’t quite describe.

Nathaniel didn’t hesitate as he reached Marc’s side, bending just enough to tilt Marc back and into his arms. He teetered a moment as Marc couldn’t help the small panic the move created, wincing at his overreaction. The redhead righted in time, adjusting his stance while a triumphant smile stretched over his lips.

“I’m starting to see why he insisted. You’re very pretty when you blush like that. I might have to do this more often.” He shot Marc a wink that brought on a deeper blush. He moved them over the threshold and into the apartment. He didn’t stop until he collapsed on the small sofa they’d found a few days before, cradling Marc in his lap.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Marc covered his face, not daring to meet Nathaniel’s eyes as he admitted, “But I can’t say I don’t like it. It was really nice.”

“Nice enough to finally see that ring you bought me?”

Marc’s head whipped up, all embarrassment forgotten as he gaped at the man holding him. “How did you know I bought a ring?”

“I may or may not have found it a few days ago while packing up your things at your old place.”

The look on Nathaniel’s face as he confessed didn’t convince Marc the redhead held an ounce of remorse, but the love they shared proved enough incentive to forgive him.

“I had planned on surprising you at dinner tonight, but maybe you’d like to see it now. It’s not much, but I figured I could upgrade it later.” Marc pulled the box from his pocket, lifting the lid for Nathaniel to see the ring nestled inside. He held his breath as he waited for Nath’s reaction.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Nath, much like he’d done when he’d asked Marc a few years ago about collaborating, pulled Marc close and pressed their lips together, dragging Marc into the sweetest kiss they’d shared to date.

When they broke apart sometime later, Nath whispered, “I love you, Marc, and I love the ring. Don’t ever upgrade it. It’s perfect the way it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://scribblingmama.tumblr.com)


End file.
